


But I Need to Learn

by medelrey



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, sansa is clueless about men and goes to jon for help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medelrey/pseuds/medelrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa's been promised to Joffrey for as long as she can remember - but she knows nothing about men. Jon's the only one she trusts enough to ask for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Need to Learn

**Author's Note:**

> I've upped Sansa's age quite a bit because I didn't feel comfortable writing the prompt with her aged 16 (as requested). The story verse has also been changed a little to keep the story straight. Based on the requests: "So, Jon and Sansa having a secret affair, during the visit of King Robert. (Sansa more old, like 16, an Jon, like 18/19)" and "The night before the royal family comes to Winterfell, Sansa spends the night in Jon's bed."

He knows it couldn’t last. They both had known that from the very start. At the very least she was his half-sister, a princess of the north and he just a no-named bastard born in the south, brought to a castle he never quite belonged in. 

She was seventeen when she kissed him for the first time. “I am afraid,” Sansa admits, “He’s to be king one day and I know nothing.” Her lips are soft like silk when they press against his. 

“Why me?” Jon asks. 

“Who else? I don’t trust Theon. Do you?”

“Of course not,” he agrees. Sansa would never tell Jon it’s because she loves him most of all. 

Sansa kisses so softly, hesitant like the little thing she is. "Am I doing this right?“ She asks, twisting her hands in her lap. 

“You needn’t purse your lips like that,” Jon says awkwardly, looking around the room like he’s too afraid to see her face. 

Sansa frowns. “Jeyne Poole says you do.”

“What does she know?" 

"Probably more than you!” Sansa spits, rolling her eyes and standing up in a huff. “Forget this ever happened." 

Jon opens his mouth to apologize but Sansa’s out of the room before he can speak; her fragile ego wounded. 

Sansa goes back to acting as if Jon doesn’t exist; only acknowledging he’s alive to give him icy glares at supper. Even Arya notices the change in their sister.

"What’s happened to her?” She asks. 

“No idea,” Jon lies, “Isn’t it better if she ignores us?" 

**

It’s a week later when Sansa catches Jon by the arm just as he’s about to enter his chambers. "When you’re sure everyone is asleep, meet me in the Godswood." 

"Alright,” Jon says, softly shutting the door behind him. It seems as if it takes ages for his brothers to finally snore, signaling it’s safe to meet Sansa. 

She’s waiting on him under the heart tree, just as she said she would. “I want to try again." 

Jon swallows around the knot in his throat and nods. He kisses her first this time, not touching anything but her lips. She’s just as soft as she was the first time, still innocent, but moves with a little more confidence now, resting her hand on Jon’s knee. He pulls back when he realizes she’s touching him. 

"I was thinking perhaps you were right. It’s better if I don’t pout.”

“Alright,” he mumbles, glancing down at her hand. 

“Kiss me again,” Sansa demands, and Jon would expect nothing less. So he does, pressing his lips to hers. She kisses him like she’s done it a thousand times - and she has, but only in her dreams. Her fingers flex around Jon’s knee experimentally and he jumps back. 

“What did I do wrong?” She questions, attempting to mask the distress in her voice. 

“Nothing,” Jon replies, “You’re doing perfectly.” He smiles as he leans in to kiss her again and he’d keep his lips on hers for the rest of his days if he could. Sansa’s bravery grows the longer she kisses him, liking the way their lips line up perfectly and she can feel his stubble on her chin. 

She confidently places her hands on his chest and he’s lost in the way she feels, in the way he breath leaves her lips in little gasps as her chest heaves. Jon keeps his hands at his sides, knowing that if he touches her, he won’t let her go. 

“It is late,” he murmurs when her fingers begin to tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck. “Someone will notice we are gone. We must get back.” 

“Yes,” Sansa says quietly, “You are right." 

**

Jon’s brothers and Theon are out hunting when he feigns illness to stay back in Winterfell. Sansa comes to his chambers after her sewing lesson, kissing him as soon as she closes the door behind her. There’s no fear of being caught; no one would ever think to find Sansa with Jon. 

She pushes him back on his bed, covering his body with hers. There’s no guise of practice now; they both do this because they can no longer resist each other. Sansa loves the way Jon’s hands feel on her back and in her hair too much to tell him she’s learned enough and Jon’s too addicted to her to deny her when she comes to him begging for kisses and his lips on her skin. 

She’s much more brazen than she was when they first started. She knows how to place her lips, her hands, how to press a kiss just below Jon’s jaw to make him squirm. Sansa’s learned the power that comes with kissing and her body - but she’s also learned that power runs both ways. She melts when Jon tangles his fingers in her hair or lets his touch caress her neck, running down her spine until it just borders on inappropriate. 

Sansa wishes he’d let go of his control for just a second; she wants him regardless of the consequences. She knows if he touches her there, where she aches between her thighs, or anywhere, she’ll never want anyone else. But she’s promised to the king-to-be and Jon Snow does not fit within her plans, though they both may wish for it. 

She sighs as Jon’s teeth graze her skin. "I want more, Jon.”

She moves his hands down her back, but he freezes. “Sansa, we can’t.”

“But I have to learn,” she insists, grinding her hips against his. 

“We don’t play that game anymore. We both know that’s not what this is about." 

Sansa groans as she pushes her hips down once more, heart racing as she feels him hard beneath her. "Fine. Then I just want more.” She moves her lips to his ear. “Don’t you? Don’t you want me, Jon? Don’t you want to know what I feel like? What you do to me?" 

Jon’s hips buck involuntarily at her words, hands slipping just a little lower down her back. "That’s not fair, Sansa." 

"When have I ever played fair?” Sansa asks, kissing him hard. 

Jon groans as he flips their position, pressing her into the mattress beneath them. “Do you really want to know, Sansa? What I think?" 

"Yes,” she whispers, locking her legs around him. 

“I want you. I want you so bad. I’d kiss your neck over and over and move down your body until I’d have to unlace your gown. I’d drive you mad until you were moaning my name and begging me to go lower. Then I’d kiss between your legs and make you peak." 

Sansa closes her eyes and tries to ease the ache between her legs. "Then do it.”

“No,” Jon says. “Not yet. Your prince shall be here in a fortnight to take you to the capital and your eighteenth name day will have come and gone. If you still want this by then, you’ll have it." 

Jon rolls off Sansa, biting his lip and sighing. 

"I’ll not change my mind,” Sansa says harshly. “You know I won’t.”

“And maybe you will." 

Sansa groans in frustration, tackling Jon from behind and biting his neck. "Now you’re the one who doesn’t fight fair." 

**

The fortnight passes quickly and Sansa finds herself more sad than anything. She always imagined she’d marry well, run a castle with lots of children like her mother. But now all she wants is Jon. And not just in the sense of desiring him, but she _wants_ him. Sansa wants to be wholly his, and his only. 

She’s furious at him when she finds out he’s joining The Night’s Watch; leaving Winterfell to take an oath that will lock him away from her forever. Sansa will argue with him later, but for now, the desire she has for Jon has not dissipated in the thirteen days since he made her the deal. 

And Jon is not the type of man to go back on his word. She undresses him without a word; a few kisses on his collarbone, his ribs, the place under his jaw. There are no words she knows that could convey her want. She’s awkward with the laces of his breeches, cursing herself with fumbling hands. "You have to show me, Jon.” And just like that they’re back to their game, Sansa trusting Jon with everything she needs to know. 

“I don’t,” he mumbles, “We can’t go all the way. No matter how much I want to.”  

She doesn’t fight him. He’s right; Sansa knows what kind of woman Cersei is. She’ll expect her to bleed on her wedding night; to prove her worthiness as a bride for the crown prince. Sansa doesn’t have words as he’s fully undressed; he’s beautiful, like he’s a statue and Sansa hopes Joffrey will be half as handsome as Jon is. 

He lets her explore him with her hands, curious fingertips that touch his muscles, his ribs and his face. Jon hisses when she grips his cock with light hands, just as hesitant as she was when she first kissed him half a year ago.   
Jon shows her what he likes, intertwining their fingers together as she runs her hand up and down his cock. “Will he like this?" 

"He would be a fool not to love anything you do." 

Sansa smiles as he moves her hand faster, positioning her thumb on the underside of the head of his cock. Jon’s eyes fall closed as she gains confidence, moving her fist all on her own. "I won’t last much longer,” he groans, curling his toes against the floor and grasping Sansa by the neck to pull her forward for a kiss. 

“What do you-”

Jon spills across the front of her gown, staining the navy fabric. He digs his fingers into her neck as she continues to run her hand over him, jerking in time with the way his hips rut into her fist. He feels silly with how quickly he came, but Sansa’s too beautiful and eager for him to hold off. “I’m sorry about your gown. It was pretty." 

Sansa laughs as she wipes her hand across her hip. "It’s alright, Jon." 

He kisses her again wrapping his hands into her hair, and smiling against her lips. "I want to try something." 

"What?”

“I want to kiss you there." 

"There? You mean-?”

“Please,” Jon says, “It’s all I’ve thought about." 

Sansa nods, letting Jon walk her backward until her knees hit the bed. He strips her of her gown and underthings, marveling at the beauty in front of him. She’s a goddess, no doubt. Jon will never see another woman that could hold a candle to Sansa Stark. 

Her skin is smooth and soft under his mouth, turning a pretty shade of pink as he kisses across her collarbones and chest. Jon’s careful with his teeth when he lavishes her breasts with attention; only teasing when Sansa digs her nails into his scalp. 

He can’t help but notice her nipples are the same shade as her lips, the lightest shade of pink to contrast with her shiny red hair. Jon kisses down her body like she’s made of glass, running his tongue along the outline of her navel and her hipbones before he parts her legs on either side of his shoulders. 

"And will he do this?” Sansa asks, reaching down to push Jon’s hair away from his eyes. 

“He’d be a fool not to.” Jon parts her center with his fingers, trying his best not to stare. He’s heard Robb and Theon boast, but to see a beautiful woman in front of him is different than anything he could’ve imagined. It’s better than he could’ve dreamed. 

Jon licks at her lightly, moaning at her taste. She’s sweet, like he thought, with a bit of saltiness he didn’t expect. He loves it; every part of it, the way she rocks against his mouth and bites her fist to keep from moaning too loudly. Jon feels a bit awkward; he’s never done this before but with the way Sansa mumbles his name and arches her back, he gains confidence with every stroke of his tongue.   
His fingertips press into her thighs as she thrusts herself down onto his mouth, moaning just a little too loudly as Jon’s tongue dips inside her. 

Gods, he could taste her forever. He licks at her heavier strokes now; pressing the flat of his tongue against the top of her cunt. Sansa grips the back of his head to keep him in that spot, winding her hips from side to side. 

Her legs shake as she mumbles incoherently, grinding against Jon’s mouth until she feels like she might burst at the seams. Jon keeps flicking his tongue over one spot, driving her mad with more pleasure than she could ever imagine. Sansa can feel her heart beat in her ears as the knot in her stomach bursts, sending her eyes closed and hips bucking wildly as she comes. 

Jon licks her through her orgasm, accidentally leaving nail marks in her hips from how hard he holds her down. He nibbles at her thigh as she comes down, catching her breath. “And will he do that?" 

"Demand it,” Jon says, placing a kiss at the top of her mound before he wipes his mouth across the back of his hand. 

He falls to the bed next to Sansa, breathing just as hard as she is. “He’ll not be as good as you." 

Jon laughs, shaking his head. "You don’t have anything to compare me to. I just wanted to kiss you there is all." 

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Sansa speaks. "You leave in the morning? You’ll not even see me off?”

“Your mother has forbidden it. It doesn’t make a good impression on the king and queen to have a bastard sulking around Winterfell." 

Sansa frowns.

"Don’t be so sad. Perhaps we will see each other again one day.” Jon sits up, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. “And remember, you may be going south, but the north is your home. And I will always be waiting for you.”   
  
Sansa finds in her to smile softly, leaning into Jon’s touch. She leans up to kiss him one last time, taste and memory lingering on her lips. “I’ll miss you. And thank you." 

Jon laughs, sliding out of her bed. "You needn’t thank me. And I’ll miss you as well." 

He dresses in silence and gives her once last glance before he leaves her room. She’ll head south and he’ll head north, but she’ll always have his heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me on tumblr @ mattysigh.tumblr.com. I love hearing from all of you!


End file.
